The spirit
by sonea91
Summary: Afer Cedric's death, Hermione finds that part of him is still there, yet she seems to be the only one who can see him, talk to him. After finding out why his spirit still lingers in the halls of Hogwarts, Hermione helps him to become free to move on.
1. How I first met him

"Remember, if the time should come, when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory!" _~ Albus Dumbledore_

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_This is the first of three parts to this story. _

_Usual disclaimers apply, i.e. all rights belong to J.K. Rowling and none to me=)_

_Hope you enjoy this part and please let me know what you think!_

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**How I first met him (Part 1 of 3)**

In the wizarding world there is many a creature unknown to almost everyone, so it is hardly a surprise that Hermione had never heard of spirits before she met one.

Those people who believe in these kind of supernatural appearances usually tell you that in order to see a person's spirit you have to be closely connected to him or her, some even going as far as saying that only soulmates can ever achieve to see one another's spirit.

So it came completely unexpected that Hermione should see the spirit of a person she had hardly known, someone who had definitely been much closer to other people than her.

And yet, of all people, she was the only one who could see him, talk to him, help him.

The first time she had noticed that something was wrong was at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, when Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's lifeless body. There had been an uproar when he arrived in the manner he did, and it took Hermione a while to understand why. "Is he dead?", she had heard other people shout fearfully and the girl hadn't understood why. For clearly, both of them were there, alive and healthy.

And then the impression faded and she had realized that the body Harry was holding was indeed that – a lifeless body void of any emotion.

The shock had washed over her, like it had done to anyone else, but instead of crying, like most of the other girls were doing, Hermione had just stood there, her face expressionless and her eyes had taken on a distant glint, as if she was looking for something – or someone.

Everything after that passed in a swirl, and considering the aftermath of the event – Harry getting nearly killed by the impersonation of Alastor Moody – it is hardly a surprise that Hermione forgot all about the strange experience, or maybe pushed it aside as irrelevant.

It was in the second week of Fifth Year that Hermione first saw him. She was walking down a seldom used corridor on her way to the library, when she saw him leaning against a doorframe, a tall, blonde boy clad in Hufflepuff robes and a sad look in his eyes.

If things had been any different, she probably wouldn't even have taken notice of him, would have just nodded at him and brushed past him without ever looking at him too closely.

But something captured her, the sadness of his look maybe, the eyes which revealed that he did expected her to do just that, brush right past him without sparing him a second glance.

So Hermione slowed down and walked towards him, as a look of surprise crossed his features.

"Who are you?", she asked him, although, in all honesty, she already knew.

He did not reply her, but instead held up his hand, as if to tell her to stop walking. But with knowledge she didn't know she had, she recognized that he wasn't telling her to go away, but that he was rather trying whether it was possible for him to touch her - touch anybody, really.

His eyes seemed to be pleading with her and ever so slowly, she brought up her own hand and moved it toward his. And with a sense of clarity she knew that she couldn't touch him, not in the way she used to think of touch, that her hand would go right through his if she "pushed" ever so slightly against his.

So with great care she moved her hand until it was just in front of his, her hand looking smaller than it actually was in contrast to his. And a feeling overcame her, for even though she didn't feel the warmth of his hand on hers, didn't physically feel anything, she felt its presence and Hermione learnt that there was more to a touch than the physical aspect of it, because this touch was real, more so than the handshake she would exchange with an acquaintance.

The look of surprise on his face deepened, but it wasn't able to wash away the sadness in his eyes. "You know that I am here", he said, in a voice of utter disbelief. And with that, he had disappeared.

She did not see him again for three weeks, three weeks in which she wondered, mediated, pondered. Three weeks in which she researched, investigated, consulted. Three weeks in which she doubted her own sanity.

For the library, which had never failed Hermione before in her entire life, refused to give her any answers to the questions she had. For the only thing she could find about hours of fruitless search about spirits – which she had decided to label the phenomena she had witnessed – was that in order to see one, you had to be important to the person who had died, very important really, since it could only ever be seen by one person. Those two people, the dead and the 'recipient' often were soulmates, though they didn't have to be. But how could she be important to him, who had known nothing about her, but the fact that she was a Hogwarts student, too.

Hermione had always been one to treat books with care, but at that moment, she fought hard to suppress the urge of throwing that book against the wall and trampling on it.

So Hermione decided to do something she had never done in her life before: to give up. The library didn't hold any answers for her, and she was too busy trying to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble with Umbridge and trying to find a way to learn something in Defence Against the Dark Arts despite Umbridge's teaching methods. When had life become so frustratingly difficult?

No sooner when she had decided to give up on her research, she saw him again. He was sitting in the same corridor, leaning against the same door and by the looks of it, he had been waiting for her, for when she got close to him, he got up to his feet.

"I'm sorry I ran away", he said.

"It's ok", she replied, for there was hardly anything else to say.

A pregnant pause ensued, until Hermione decided to take the initiative.

"I think we should talk", she said. "Do you have time?" The question was out of her mouth before she realized its ineptness.

She was about to apologize when he smiled at her ever so slightly and answered: "Now seems to be as good a time as any" and pointed to the room behind him.

"I'm Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger", when she walked past him to open the door and let herself in.

He walked, well more like glided in behind her and she closed the door. "I'm Cedric Diggory", he said and Hermione was about to answer with 'I know', but decided against it. He gave her another one of his half-smiles, seemingly aware of what she had just been about to say.

"At least that's who I used to be", he added as a belated afterthought.

'Used to be, if that isn't the right choice of wording, I don't know what is', Hermione thought to herself as she walked up to the front of the abandoned classroom, pulled out the chair at the teacher's desk and sat down.

"This is weird, isn't it?", she said, laughing in a high-pitched voice.

"It is", Cedric simply said and took to stand a few feet away from her.

"I never would have guessed that you would be the only one able to see me", he added.

The way he took in her appearance made her uneasy, and yet he understood why he was scrutinizing her with his eyes the way he did. If she had been in his place, she would have wanted to find out why the hell the girl opposite to him was the only one who realized that he – or at least a part of him – was still there.

"What are you?", she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but he understood her just as well.

"If only I knew", he answered sadly. "I only have some theories and yet, how can I be sure?"

He looked at her questioningly. "You probably think I'm crazy!"

Hermione tried to reassure him. "Well, I'm the one sitting on this chair, talking to you. So if you are crazy, that would probably make me crazy, too."

He smiled at her, the first genuine smile since they had met, and yet, even at that moment, the sadness did not leave his eyes.

"You know, at first I thought I was a ghost". Hermione nodded, she had been thinking as much herself, but had, probably as fast as he had, dismissed that idea.

"So I tried to talk to them. But they didn't even realize that I was there." He sounded bitter, but he had probably every reason to.

"And something else wasn't right. I don't know how much you know about ghosts, but they decide to stay here willingly. And I – I was never asked, never given the choice." His voice broke at the last statement.

"So I thought, maybe I had to stay here, because there are things I yet have to do, things I left unfinished."

"Are there?", Hermione asked gently.

"Yes", he said.

Cedric didn't need to say it, for Hermione understood without him saying explicitly so. He was not ready to share what he yet had to do, not yet.

"I have to go", she said, as she took a look at her watch. "It's nearly curfew."

"Right", he said and then added hesitantly. "Meet me again?"

"Yes", Hermione answered. "Same place, same time tomorrow?"

He nodded and Hermione made to leave, but turned one last time when she was at the door. "It was nice talking to you." With that she left and left behind a confused Cedric Diggory.


	2. How I got to know him

"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery." _~ Hermione Granger_

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_I switched to Hermione's perspective in this part and I'm playing with the idea of doing the last chapter from Cedric's perspective, but I haven't entirely decided on that just yet._

_Anyway, without further ado, here comes the second part;)_

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**How I got to know him (Part 2 of 3)**

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when I met up with Cedric the next day. He wasn't ready to tell me about the things he yet had to do – or at least was convinced he yet had to do.

So if anything I expected awkwardness, as neither of us would know what to say. And maybe, in the beginning, it was awkward, for a while.

What I do remember is that for the first time in my life, I had a totally honest conversation with someone. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was dead. I know that sounds horrible and probably I should be ashamed of myself. But somehow I could tell him things I had never told anyone before.

And then again, Cedric made it easy for you to trust him. He never seemed to be judging you, he just sat there, opposite of you, listening, his blue eyes penetrating but yet not disturbingly so.

So I told him. Told him about my childhood, about the way I always felt left out when I was young, how I never seemed to fit anywhere, but how I didn't really mind. How I had never really understood what real friendship meant until I met Harry and Ron.

And he told me in return. Told me about his upbringing, what it meant to be a pureblood child. Told me about the traditions he had grown up with. How he had looked so very forward to coming to Hogwarts, to proving his worth to both him and his parents.

Then I got on the topic of Muggle traditions, I was surprised how much he knew about them. It seemed that Cedric Diggory was one of the very few purebloods who weren't completely ignorant about the Muggle world. Sometimes we would have little arguments about whether the Muggle or wizard tradition of a certain event (Christmas, weddings, …) was better. And it wouldn't always be me picking the Muggle side either. Sometimes he would defend the Muggle tradition most vehemently while I would represent the wizard one just as keenly.

They were always much fun, those little arguments of ours, and we usually ended up with some compromise, admittedly grudgingly and both of us thinking we were in the right anyway. And then, sometimes he would have me convinced or I him but would keep up appearances just to be able to go on with our little banter.

These daily meetings had become the one hour of the day, when I could truly relax, when I didn't feel the urge to worry about either Ron or Harry or school or Umbridge or life in general. It was the one hour of the day I could completely tune out and just enjoy myself.

Three weeks had passed with us meeting up every day for at least an hour without either of us really taking notice of it. I still cannot imagine how he could through the rest of the day, having nothing to do and unable to talk to anybody. When I once asked him about it he said: "I watch people. It makes me feel close to them in some way." He sounded sad when he said that, so I never asked him about it again.

If anyone was ever to ask me what we talked about in all those hours, I'm sure I couldn't recount most of the things. We talked about everything and nothing, things which seemed important at the moment and things we simply talked about to amuse ourselves.

Slowly but surely our topics where moving on to more present matters, and somehow became more personal. We both talked about our respective ambitions – we were quite similar in that way, he talked how proud he had been to be chosen as the Hogwarts' champion for the Triwizard Tournament. He told me about his friends and I told him about mine. We talked about school, favourite subjects, teachers, anything really.

And then, one day, we talked about the Yule Ball. It started harmless enough, the usual banter about whom we went with, how the band was, the whole evening. He told me that I looked beautiful in my dress and I blushed furiously and he just smirked at me. I told him he had looked quite handsome himself, but he just laughed it off, while my cheeks remained reddened.

He was laughing quite often these days, and the sadness in his eyes had somehow diminished, yet it was still present, lingering in the deepness of his eyes.

And he loved to make fun of me and to make me blush, and he more often succeeded than not, while I yet had to ever achieve that goal. In a way, we were flirting, yet it was not earnest flirting, just the playful kind.

And then, all of a sudden, he mentioned Cho. I had avoided mentioning her before and so had he. So when he talked about her in a voice that sounded like he desperately tried to keep it casually, I knew something was up. But I didn't ask him and rather waited for him to tell me. And, after a long pause, he did.

"You know, I watched her the other day. Well, to be honest, I've been watching her for quite a while now. And she seems to be, well, sad. And…" Here he stopped for a while, probably not knowing how to put into words what he meant.

"I've seen her with Harry."

I was about to say something, try to make him feel better, but he made a parrying hand gesture.

"No, that's fine." He took a long breath, well, I'm not entirely sure whether it was a breath, for do spirits breath. But it was his equivalent of the sort anyway.

"That's just it. She looked so – guilty. And I don't want her to feel that way. I want her to be able to move on." His eyes were glittering treacherously.

"I – Could you do something for me? I really wouldn't ask, but…"

"Sure, what is it?", I interrupted him.

"I need you to write a letter to Cho for me." Somehow this didn't sound like he had just come up with this plan, but like he had thought it over for quite a while and he probably had.

"Sure. But wouldn't she recognize that it wasn't your handwriting?" I asked somewhat helplessly.

"You'll have to practice, I'm sure you'll do just fine. And then, we'll just have to include some events no one else knew about, so she'll know that it came from me." _Definitely thought through._

"But, wouldn't it be just easier if I told her that you're still around? I could act as a sort of mediator between the two of you."

"And how do you think that would make her feel? That you can see me, you, who had absolutely no connection with me, but she, who was my girlfriend, can't."

I was somewhat hurt by his words, but I knew that he hadn't meant them as harsh as they sounded. So I swallowed down the anger that was rising within me and said, "when do we start?"

"Now, if you're willing to?" His eyes were pleading with me and if I hadn't already decided to help him, I would have right then and there. I don't think anyone could refuse to do as he asked when confronted with that look.

So for the next few days I spent all the time writing when we were together, while we talked about other things. We would be talking about Umbridge when he would suddenly throw in a "not like that, more curved like that" and he would draw in the air. It was art to imitate his writing, especially since I didn't have anything to compare it with, but eventually, I seemed to have gotten it correctly, or at least, close enough, close enough that it would pass without further suspicion.

So one evening I got down to write the letter for Cho with him watching over it, carefully correcting my writing. I think I wrote at least ten drafts until it was finally done.

"_Dear Cho,_

_This probably comes as a shock to you, hearing from me after all this time._

_I have always known that entering the Triwizard Tournament would be dangerous, and people have died before, so I've taken all the precautions in case that the worst of all cases should actually occur. I know, you'd call me a damn pessimist; I'd call myself a realist, really. We had an argument about that once, do you remember? You told me I should stop being so pessimistic about school, the tournament, life in general and I told you that you were just too optimistic for your own good. We probably made quite the good mixture, didn't we?_

_But I'm digressing, not really typical of me. _

_Well, anyway, maybe you're wondering why this letter is coming just now, why you didn't get it right after my death. The answer is, I terminated it, I wanted to give you some time, so that you would be able to look at it from a distance, maybe look at it more rationally._

_First of all, I want to say, that I really, really liked you and in the beginning I thought that I might come to love you. But now, I'm not so sure anymore. You're a great girl, Cho, you really are, but I just don't think we're right for one another, never were. I don't mean to hurt you and yet I feel like I have to tell you this, I owe you the truth. I think, in the long run I would have broken up with you, and it would have hurt like hell to do so, because I think very highly of you and your opinion of me matters greatly to me. _

_What I'm trying to say is that you have to move on. You're free to date whoever you want, don't feel guilty about me. We probably would have broken up if I were still alive, so it would not be fair to you to keep mourning me. I'm not saying, forget all about me, because I truly hope I'll stay in your memory, but I'm saying go live your life. You deserve it and you deserve somebody who can truly love you back, something I've come to think of that I would have never been able to._

_With all my love (not that of a boyfriend or a lover, but rather that of a very good friend),_

_Cedric"_

I put down the pen after signing with his name and just looked at him. His face was turned away, and he was staring at the wall next to us, tracing the patterns of the tapestry with his eyes.

"Cedric", I carefully addressed him. "I don't mean to pry. But did you really mean that? Were you never in love with Cho?" I know I sounded astonished, they had seemed so in love to me.

He kept on staring at the tapestry for a long while. Eventually he started talking to me, but didn't turn around to face me. "I didn't love her, not yet. But I think I might have come to love her if we had been given more time."

I didn't understand. Obviously, it pained Cedric to see Cho with other boys. How could he lie to her like that about his true feelings!

"Then - why are you lying to her? Doesn't she deserve to know the truth."

"Hermione", he turned around to face me then. "The problem is, I will never know for sure. I will never know whether I would ever have come to love her or not. And it's not fair to her to make her stay alone for the rest of her life, just because there might have been a chance of me and her being happy together."

He paused for a moment and I didn't really know what to say to that. He was right, somehow, yet it didn't feel right. Sure, it wouldn't be fair to Cho, if she never had the chance to move on, but this wasn't fair to him either. Without realizing had started to cry lightly, shedding the tears he was so desperate to blink away. I felt miserable for him and yet I know that there was nothing I could do, nothing to make this situation any better.

"I think", he continued after a long pause, "sometimes people deserve to be lied to. Sometimes they deserve not to know the truth, if the truth would only unsettle their peace of mind."

He was right, I realized. And yet it was so painful, so very painful for him.

I was just sitting with him for another while, neither of us saying a word. There wasn't anything left to say.

I posted the letter to Cho the next day. I watched her at breakfast as she got the message and out of the corner of my eye I could see that Cedric was just standing a few feet away from her, looking at her while she read 'his' note. She blanched while she read it, and I saw Cedric looking at her probably for the last time, his way of saying goodbye. Shortly after he had left the hall, Cho was rushing out of the hall as well, with the letter tightly pressed to her chest and tears streaming down her face. I saw that one of her friends was following her and sighed. This was all I could do for either of them, they would have to work out the rest for themselves.


	3. How I was finally able to move on

"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." _~ Albus Dumbledore_

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As promised, this part is from Cedric's POV.

Like most other writers, I'm very fond of feedback, as it gives me the chance to improve my writing. So I'd be very happy if you left me a review, doesn't have to be overly long or anything, just a few words on how you liked the story/my writing style/… =)

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**How I was finally able to move on (Part 3 of 3)**

The days after I had made Hermione send the letter to Cho were hard. I knew I had done the right thing, yet it hurt so much. I had always thought that doing the right thing wasn't meant to hurt, well, I had obviously been wrong. Then again, I had never believed that spirits existed either, so I had clearly been wrong about more things lately.

We didn't talk much over the next few days. We, that is, Hermione and me – well, obviously, since I hadn't developed the ability to talk to people other than her all of a sudden.

My life as a spirit was most of the spirit was miserable most of the time. It was ironic, really, when I was still alive I had so often just wished my friends would shut up, everyone would leave me alone. Well, I guess it's true what they say, you never really appreciate something until you've lost it.

Frankly, being on my own most of the day was driving me crazy. The hour with Hermione every day was the only thing that kept me one last shred of sanity. When I was with her, things were easier. The pain wasn't gone, no, it was never gone completely, but it was somewhat lessened and I was able to laugh and joke with her.

I don't think anyone who hasn't experienced it himself can ever really comprehend what I was going through, being so close to my beloved ones and yet unable to talk to them, to touch them. They didn't even know I was there!

When I was about ten I watched some muggle film about a young teenager who gets into an accident and is in a coma afterwards. For months, I would have these dreams about being in a coma, my mind fully awake, but not able to wake up, not able to move anything and no one would know that I was still there. I guess, in a very ironic way, that's kind of what happened to me. And I always thought that divination was just a whole pile of bullshit, haa, I probably would have turned out the wisest seer in the last millennium or so.

My friends often told me that I tended to be cynic at times, and I have to admit that there might be some truth to that. I got even worse while being in that state of transition. Then again, people also say that when one is faced with a crisis, they tend to turn bitter and cynical. So I dare say, I had a pretty damn excuse.

So, as I was saying, for the next few days, the conversations Hermione and I had were a bit strained. I was still mourning the relationship I had never been able to have with Cho and Hermione understood and kept her distance.

But slowly but surely things were turning back to normal, well, not normal really, since that would include me being alive and all, but to how it had been the days before the 'Cho episode'.

Talking to Hermione was always a lot of fun. She was too clever for her own good and I would tease her endlessly about her knowledge of books. I'd tell her that she had to go out and live a bit more quite often, until she countered it by saying, if she were to do that, she probably wouldn't have any more time to come talk to me. That shut me up quite effectively.

I don't know why I trusted her the way I did. I had always been a very private person, keeping most of my thoughts to myself. And yet I found myself telling this girl things I had never told anyone before.

I'd like to lay the blame on the fact that she was simply the only one there to talk to and that I was getting desperate for some human contact and interaction. Well, while that certainly is some part of the truth, it doesn't completely cover it. It was simply so easy to tell her things, she would just listen, sometimes nod in acknowledgment. And she wouldn't pretend that she understood what I was going through, but she never judged me and she just listened to whatever I had to say.

Frankly, I don't think I would have made it through that time without her.

About a week after the 'Cho episode', she asked me. We were in the middle of one of our little senseless arguments – we just had them for the fun of it anyway – when she suddenly became serious.

"Cedric", she addressed me carefully, her brown eyes penetrating mine, as if she was trying to figure out how I would react to what she was about to say. "You know, when we first talked, you said that there are things you still need to do. I suppose, Cho was one of them, but there is more, isn't there?"

I nodded, but didn't say anything to her.

"You know", she continued, "I'm there for you. If there is any way I can help you do the things you still feel like you have to do, I'm there for you."

She was looking at me with those brown eyes of hers, and I think I had never seen her as serious.

"Thank you", I said, swallowing the lump that was suddenly rising in my throat. I had never thought about asking her, asking her for help with Cho had been a onetime thing, and I had just asked her, because I hadn't known any other way to help myself.

That she who hadn't even known me until a few weeks ago was willing to help me.

Some of my thoughts must have been evident on my face, for she added, sounded slightly angry: "We're not strangers anymore, Cedric. I've told you things I've NEVER told anyone before. I have come to think of you as my friend, and I believed that you thought the same way about me!"

"I do..", I started to say, but was once interrupted.

"So what's your problem? If Ron or Harry needed help, they wouldn't even have to ask. That's what friends are for, right, to help one another."

"Right", I mumbled, still astonished.

And help me she did. There were so many things I wished I would have been able to do while still alive, and through her, I could.

I had had a huge fight with one of my cousins, Alex, just a few months ago and we had never made up afterwards. I'm not one to usually get into fights, but the problem with me and Alex problem was that we were too much alike. We both had quite the temper, and then we probably had both had just a bad day.

So I told her that I was sorry, that I hadn't meant all the petty things I had said. Hermione somehow managed to make it look like the letter had gotten lost in the post.

And then there little things I just wanted to do. My best friend, Peter, had always been envious of the signed pictures I had of the French national quidditch theme. It just so happened that I ran into them once while on a holiday in France, and they were all really friendly and I talked to them for a while. And Peter had always been a huge fan of the French team, so he had been really jealous, especially since he knew it didn't really mean that much to me.

So I had put the pictures away, out of range that he wouldn't have to see them all the time and had planned on taking them home with me. Well, we all know what happened them and why I hadn't been able to do that.

How I convinced Hermione to sneak into the Hufflepuff dorm, I don't know, I just know I somehow managed. She kept on muttering to herself the whole way there and back, about me being a bad influence on her, about how she could get caught and it would all be my fault and on and on. It was amusing, really.

But in the end, she succeeded, and managed to place the pictures in a little parcel under my former bed. It had "Peter" written on it, and she had made it look as if I had wanted to give it to him for his birthday.

So for a while, Hermione did all those things for me concerning other people. And then, we had somehow moved on to do things that I had still wanted to do. Like going to a muggle zoo. So we developed this tendency of sneaking out of the castle at weekends. Being the perfect student Hermione had always been, nobody ever suspected a thing, they just thought that she was doing some more studying.

And Hermione couldn't stop complaining about it. Telling me, that one day she was going to end up getting expelled. Complained, that she was becoming a hypocrite, berating Harry and Ron for sneaking around and telling them to be more careful, while doing the exact opposite herself. Oh, she had quite the temper when she got mad, but I still think that, secretly, she enjoyed it just as much as I did.

Even though I was having so much fun, during the hours of the day I spent of my day, I was asking myself, whether this would go on like this forever. Sure, I enjoyed her company, but I couldn't imagine having to stay like this for much longer.

By then, I believed that I had done everything I still had wanted or needed to do, and yet I was still not free to move on. I had no idea what was holding me back.

One day, Hermione told me. "I'll probably never get why you ended up in Hufflepuff. You're as smart as a Ravenclaw and as brave as any Gryffindor. And lately, I've come to think that you're even as sneaky as the Snakes."

Even though I knew that she hadn't meant to hurt me, I was angry. "Why I am in Hufflepuff of all houses?", I asked. "In the least worthy, in the one where all the leftovers end up?"

"I didn't mean..", she tried to say.

"Yes you did", I said. More calmly, rather sadly really, I continued. "You know, the hat considered putting me in both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and even Slytherin. But in the end its decision was clear, at heart I was a real Hufflepuff and always would be.

"What you other houses don't seem to understand is that Hufflepuff is just as worthy as any of those. Our house is not just for the leftovers, even though we DO accept anybody and are proud of that. But most importantly, our house is about unity, about loyalty, about sticking up for one another, about accepting one another just the way they are. I think that's something the rest of you still have to learn.

"Have you ever realized that Hufflepuffs are the only house that seems to be getting on with anybody. That's because we don't judge. We don't say 'oh, you're a Slytherin, you have to be bad', or 'oh, you're a Gryffindor, you have to be truly courageous'. The other houses look down on us, because we like to make friends with people outside of our house and they call us weak for that, tell us, that we have no pride to be a Hufflepuff, for surely, there isn't anything to be proud of anyway.

"What they can't see is that we are proud to be Hufflepuffs, we are just not a narrow-minded as the rest tends to be. We are open to anyone. I think, the other houses could learn a lot from us, if they just got over their prejudices."

"I think you might be right", Hermione said in a low voice. She sounded thoughtful. And suddenly I knew, that that had been one of the reasons I had stayed on as well, to open her eyes to that fact.

I didn't dwell on that idea any longer, for I knew Hermione well enough to know that she would do enough thinking of her on later on.

Suddenly she asked me. "You know, I still don't know why of all people I am able to see and talk to you. The library books are useless. All I found is that only soulmates are able to see one another that you have to be really important to that person and so on." She sounded affronted that her books had dared to fail her.

"But, that sounds about right, doesn't it?", I asked her.

"What?"

"I said that sounds about right." I grinned at her and continued. "You are very important to me, Hermione, or at least you have become so over the last few weeks, months, really."

"But still, there were other people much closer to you. Why couldn't they see you?"

"Well, I think that it could ever only be you. You see, I think it had to be someone who would be able to let me move on in the end. I think there is so little known about spirits, because it would be dangerous otherwise. I think there are few who wouldn't fall prey to temptation, to hold back the spirits of their beloved ones. For if their existence was generally known, there would be no ultimate death, but the spirits would live on to stay among the living. But without death, there is no new life. Without decay, there is no development. If people were not to die, but to simply move on to another level of being, the world would become static, life would become static. So you see, it couldn't have been anyone but you."

She had that thoughtful look on her face again, probably contemplating what I had just said. And I know that, come morning, she would have developed at least three other theories of her own.

A look at her watch made her jump up.

"It's already ten minutes past curfew." She sounded panicked, but I wasn't just ready to let her go.

"Hermione", I called her when she was already at the door. She turned back to face me and seeing the serious expression on my face she walked back to me. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I think this it." I didn't have to explain to her, she understood what I meant. It was finally time for me to move on, I just somehow knew that I know would be able to do so.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye", she said, sounding a bit helplessly.

"Thank you", I whispered, "for everything. I know, I can never make it up to you, I owe you so much."

"No, you don't", she said. "Don't you realize that I needed you just as much as you needed me? I think I would have gone with the Umbridge stuff and all if it wasn't for you." She laughed a hallow laugh.

"But, if you still need me…"

"No, Cedric, no. You have to move on. I'll be fine without you. I'll miss you, but I'll be fine." She smiled at me.

"I'll miss you, too", I told her and then, there wasn't really anything left to say.

Simultaneously, we held up our hands, like we had then we had first met. A light touch, just like the last time, not physically evident but yet there. The only difference was that this time it wasn't a hello, it was a goodbye.


End file.
